Know Your Enemy
by wandkind
Summary: A revamp of a story that was too awful for me to bear. Ulquiorra Cifer moves into an old, familiar house to start a new life.


A/N: I wrote this story when I was 10. This is my attempt at making up for all the awful things I wrote which embarrass me. I will edit out errors tomorrow.

Chapter 1: Ulquiorra Cifer

He closed the last drawer and wiped his forehead with a small handkerchief that soon disappeared back into the pocket of his pants. It had taken him all morning but after a lot of unzipping and unpacking all his clothes were in their proper cabinet and neatly folded. He knew this house and the furniture that came with it, as many years ago he had lived here with his grandfather for a very short time. Ulquiorra Cifer was not one to sit back and let nostalgia take over often, but he had to admit it was hard to keep his thoughts from roaming inside this house.

After his parents had died, after an unfortunate accident both sides of his family never ceased to blame on the other, his grandfather had taken him in for a few years and raised him as best he could until his last breath. He was still a minor when the diseases that plagued his guardian won the battle and put an end to his quiet life. His mother's family and his father's family proceeded to take him in one by one, giving him away to another when they got tired of his personality and his mannerisms. They all adored the idea of him as the poor, pitiful child who had lost everyone that mattered to him at so young, but once they had the chance to take a close look at him they wanted to get rid of him as quickly as humanly possible. Ulquiorra had always disliked how all of them always tried to "fix" him.

At some point, he had ceased to care for them.

The more time he spent with his family members, the more his view of the world worsened. They were all garbage in human clothing, not fit to appreciate the lives granted to them by a higher power as they wasted away, achieving nothing. In this house—alone—he no longer had to worry about the kind of bad influence that was sure to come from living at close quarters with trash. He had become accustomed to being alone, if not in company then in his thoughts. No one had bat an eye in his direction when he chose to move out and continue his life on his own. Everyone expected him to know how to take care of himself. Not a single one of his family members had bothered to pitch in with money to help him settle, and he was grateful to his years as a tutor in highschool and the money he had saved up over time should a rainy day ever come.

Ulquiorra Cifer, born December 1st, five feet six inches in height and fifty five kilograms in weight, currently unemployed and living on savings as he advances through his second year in college. When he took the time to sit down and think about all of this coming together he knew just how pathetic it must seem to some people, but to him this move was just the beginning of a whole new page in the book of his life.

He had no distractions keeping him from starting anew, no friends in his old school, no cousins he bothered to miss, absolutely, blissfully _nothing_.

It was much easier for Ulquiorra to relax then and allow himself to slump against his chair. He could finally live as he liked, and he could not have been more pleased with the development.

After the few minutes of reminiscing were through, he stood from the chair and made for the bathroom, grabbing some clothes on his way. He had to work through this move on his own, and he could feel the sweat clinging uncomfortably to his pale skin. He paused in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink and examining his reddened neck. His hair was sticking to the side of his face and into the air in impossible angles, drops of sweat clung to the tip of his nose and pooled over his eyebrows before falling to frame his pronounced cheekbones. He had to start working on his physical strength more often, it was foolish to assume he could get respect simply through intellect. Trash valued brutality over all, and in that sense he could lower himself to their level.

Ulquiorra briefly wondered if the new college would cause him any trouble. He would prefer if everyone kept their distance as they always had in the past, but he knew better than to get ahead of himself. His fingers touched the mirror on a gesture far too sentimental for his taste, and he quickly retreated inside the confines of the frosted doors of his shower before any more emotions could slip through the cracks of his walls.


End file.
